


our restless hearts were meant to beat

by crookedfingers



Series: Storm Boys [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23483314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedfingers/pseuds/crookedfingers
Summary: Between New Mexico and Indiana, Jack and Jesse celebrate.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: Storm Boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689463
Comments: 14
Kudos: 45





	our restless hearts were meant to beat

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a direct continuation of _[beyond the blackest storms we'll see the furthest stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213752)_ , an AU in which Jack and Jesse are amateur storm chasers. I recommend reading it first.

Jesse is delighted by the room.

“Practically gotta jump to get on this bed,” he announces, doing just that. He kicks his feet into the air as he wallows back on the high mattress, and then seems to realize that it’s impolite to have his boots on in bed. He jackknifes himself back into a sitting position and folds one of his feet up onto the other knee so he can remove the corresponding boot.

Jack smiles to himself as he flips the security latch on the door and lays his bag on the luggage rack. Buddy is already settled in a place of honor on the window seat, Jesse’s hat respectfully placed on its head. The rest of Jesse’s things are on the floor, deposited between the armchair and chest of drawers.

Even after stopping in New Mexico, Jesse barely has more with him than when they’d met. Jack had anticipated that they’d be renting a cargo trailer for the drive back east, but nearly every single thing Jesse has to his name fits into a big crossover tool box in the bed of his truck.

The rebar horse sculpture was the one exception, left in the care of the owner of the auto shop where Jesse works. _Used_ to work.

Everything that Jesse hadn’t already packed into his truck at the beginning of the storm season could have been left forever in New Mexico with no real consequence to his life. Jesse didn’t own status symbols; he didn’t have heirlooms. He didn’t even have an apartment key to turn over. For years he had simply rented a furnished bedroom out of a rambling old house on a month-by-month basis. Whenever he left to go storm chasing, he took all his personal effects with him, and the room was rented out to students who were home for the summer until Jesse came back again.

When the timing didn’t quite work out, well, Jesse’s boss had a nice fold-out couch.

Saying good-bye to his boss had really been the main purpose of the trip.

The owner of the auto shop was a woman Jesse only ever called “Sojourn.” She had an alert, perceptive face and military bearing, and she’d shaken Jack’s hand unreservedly with a prosthetic during their introduction. Jesse had cried during their good-byes. She’d squeezed his hand and made him promise to take care of himself.

Something had unlocked in Jesse since the night in Texas. He’d wept against Sojourn’s shoulder within minutes of their reunion, and sniffled through the going-away party she’d thrown for him, and cried onto the head of his former parole office, Lucia, who was one of the guests of the party. He seemed embarrassed by the recurring floods of tears yet made little effort to hide them, as though it was only his own opinion of himself that was at stake and it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

But Jack felt guilty each time, as though he had visited some catastrophe upon Jesse. Through nearly the whole time they’d known each other, Jesse had worn a smile like it was his natural resting expression. Even when he slipped into that strange, brittle anger that overtook him sometimes, he’d done it through a smile, like an uneasy dog. Seeing him cry so much in such a short span of time was—troubling. A disturbance in the natural order of the world. But Jesse was always mellow afterward, eager to share his company.

“You mind if I take the shower for awhile?” Jack asks as he removes his shoes.

Jesse grunts and motions ‘go ahead’ with his hand. And Jack does—but not before making an extra trip back and forth across the room to kiss Jesse’s warm forehead.

It’s the longest shower he’s taken in months. He exits the bathroom in a hotel robe, refreshed, and Jesse rises from the bed as he approaches.

“I was thinkin’ we should do somethin’ tonight to celebrate,” Jesse says, sidling toward him.

Jack smiles, shifting his weight onto one leg. “Oh? I was thinking the same.”

Jesse’s eyes spark eagerly. “We can open the minibar?”

“What? The—” Jack replays the last five seconds of conversation in his mind. “The—the minibar?”

“Yeah.” Jesse bounces once on his heels, the picture of excitement. “Never stayed in a place with a minibar. Think it’d be fun. I know it’s all tiny bottles, but...”

Jack shakes his head, moving a shoulder. “Take anything you like.”

Jesse gives a delighted whoop and stoops in front of the minibar, plunging a hand inside. Jack hears bottles gently rattle.

Leaving Jesse to his hunt, he drifts over to examine the amenities binder, flipping to find the hotel kitchen menu. “You want to order room service, too?” They’d already stopped for dinner, but… “Dessert?”

“Eh, not hungry right now.” Jesse straightens up, whisking a mini bottle of Jack Daniel’s back and forth like a bell. “Y’like Jack?”

“Sometimes.” He turns over another page in the binder, studying the minibar list. If Jesse is going to have a drink, it seems only right to join him. He considers the options. “The Jack what you want, or were you looking for something else? I can tell you if they have it.”

Jesse ambles closer, breaking the cap with a twist of his hand. “Naw, this is good. Can’t believe they give you booze just for stayin’ in places like this. How come people with more money always get more freebies?”

Realizing the misunderstanding, Jack hastily tries to turn the page in the amenities book, but he hears Jesse’s breath catch. He didn’t hide it fast enough. Fuck.

“Twelve _dollars_?” Jesse looks at the bottle as though it has just bitten him. The color drains out of his face.

“It’s all right,” Jack starts to say, but Jesse’s expression has already become distraught.

“I’ll put it back!”

“Well—you—it’s already open… It just goes onto the room bill; it’s fine.”

But Jesse isn’t listening to him. He’s started pacing.

“Alright, you remember that place we stopped in on the way into town?” he asks. Of course Jack remembers. They’d made a supply run when they’d come into town and, by an unspoken understanding, had separated inside the store. But they’d ended up at neighboring check-out aisles at the same time, and as a result had witnessed each other’s subtle attempts to buy lube and condoms. It was funny; they’d laughed about it. But Jesse’s not reflecting on a lighthearted moment. He’s jerking his head, agitated. “They had, they had, uh, little bottles. Like these. They’re a few dollars. We can replace—um, I’ll pay for it—we can replace this one and they won’t even know. It’ll save a, a, a little money.”

“Jess.” He intercepts Jesse’s pacing, gripping both of his upper arms, making them face each other squarely. “It’s all right. It’s already open. You can drink it.”

“But—”

“We’re celebrating. This is a celebration.” He gives Jesse’s arms a small, bracing squeeze. “I’m gonna get us some ice. You sit down. Look at the dessert menu, if you change your mind about room service.” He nods at the bed.

Jesse sits down.

Jack fetches the ice bucket and his wallet, stuffs his feet into his shoes, and forges out into the hotel hall, robe be damned.

He returns to the room with a bucket of ice in his hands and a few cans tucked under his arm. Jesse has moved to sit at the table, tapping glumly at his phone.

“Someone left two quarters behind in the vending machine coin return,” Jack announces happily, bringing ice and sodas over to the table. “Figured I’d grab us some mixers, make a highball or two. You ever have a seven and seven?”

Jesse turns his phone over screen-side down on the table, looking at him curiously. “A what?”

“Whisky and 7 Up.”

Jesse wrinkles his nose. “That’s good?”

“You want to find out?”

“Hmm… That what you’re gonna have?”

“Me?” Jack backtracks to the minibar, leaning his head down look inside. He comes back to the table and places a bottle of Captain Morgan next to Jesse’s whisky. “Well, a dark and stormy would be fitting, right? But all I’ve got is ginger ale instead of ginger beer. Guess the spiced rum will make up for that a bit. So it’ll be more like a… dim and drizzly.” He flips a pair of glasses upright and scoops ice into both of them. “But a seven and seven is supposed to be made with Seagram’s, anyway, so we’ll both have bastard cocktails. And if you don’t like yours, you can blame it on that.”

Jack pours both of the drinks, lightly mixing each with a disposable coffee stirring stick, and slides Jesse’s across the table toward him.

“What should we toast to?” he asks, and Jesse looks up with a mild smile, his head cocked.

“Toast, huh? How about to, mmh... To good weather.”

“To good weather,” Jack repeats, raising his glass until Jesse does the same. They tap their glasses gently together.

Jesse takes a sip. He frowns, cocking his head to the other side, and takes another.

“Huh. Well. Ain’t bad.”

“Damned with faint praise,” Jack laughs. “I can finish it for you, if you don’t want it.”

Jesse curls his arm toward himself, tucking the glass against his chest. “Well, you know, I think it’s growin’ on me.” He lifts his chin to indicate Jack’s drink. “What about yours?”

“Mm, I should have asked the kitchen for a lime. Would’ve been good for yours, too.”

Jesse grins. “Dressed like that?”

Jack glances down at himself. The top of his robe has loosened slightly, exposing more of his chest. The top of the Sacred Heart tattoo is visible. He shrugs, taking a bigger swallow. From time to time he manages to tap into the oblivious disregard for etiquette that is available to him as a middle-aged white man. No one expects better from him. For Jesse’s sake he’d have gone anywhere wearing anything.

“Hey, trade me for a sec,” Jesse says, reaching to take the glass from his hands. He surrenders it, but pries Jesse’s drink away from him to complete the trade. Jesse makes a faint approving noise as he steals a sip.

They end up sitting side-by-side on the bed, handing their glasses back and forth. When they’ve finished them off, Jack gets up to discard the remaining ice, refill the glasses, and make a second round of cocktails. His robe slides off one of his shoulders as he crawls back into the bed. He and Jesse stretch out their legs beside one another, ankles knocking lightly together as they lounge, talking about nothing in particular. Comments on Jesse’s Instagram page, the way Jack’s truck feels like it’s started drifting to the right when he relaxes his hands on the wheel.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jack says after some time, turning his head to really look at Jesse. “Is… Are you okay?”

“Huh?” Jesse stops waggling his foot back and forth. “Yeah? Why?”

“Well. Just. I.” Jack tips his glass back and forth, making the ice clatter inside. He stops himself from saying that everything has happened so quickly; Jesse would laugh at him. “I took you away from… from everything.”

“Jack, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Jack flushes and clears his throat. “Well, ah. Your job, your friends… Leaving that behind can’t be easy. You’re putting a lot of blind trust in me. You’ve never even seen where I live, or…”

Jesse grabs his neck, pulls him over, and kisses him. “You quit that,” he mumbles, gently pinching the back of Jack’s neck in his palm, like he’s scruffing a kitten. “Sojourn, Lucia… They’re good people. I’m grateful to them. Glad I know them. But I told you, didn’t I? That bein’ there too long made me feel like I had to scream?”

Jack looks into his face, Jesse’s expression as earnest as he’s ever seen it. “What if you feel the same way in Indiana?”

Jesse exhales softy through his nose, his gaze flickering away for an instant. “Dunno. Guess I could. But everythin’ you saw back there? My whole damn life? I didn’t hate it, I made the best of it, but it never felt like I got to choose it. This is what I’m choosin’. You’re what I’m choosin’.”

Jack’s chest squeezes.

“You’re too…” He stops, and swallows, and drops his face against Jesse’s shoulder.

“Too what?” Jesse asks, threading fingers through his hair.

Too damn good for me.

Jack shakes his head. He presses his mouth firmly against Jesse’s neck for an instant before he draws himself back upright. “Oh, don’t listen to me. It’s just the drinks talking.” Jesse gives him a gently skeptical look, but Jack musters up a smile for him. “We’re supposed to celebrate.”

“Well, haven’t we been?” Jesse picks up the glass he’d set beside himself on the bed, now filled with nothing but melting ice. He uses it to gesture around the rest of the room. It’s the nicest place they’ve stayed all season, unquestionably. A splurge for their first night in between New Mexico and Indiana.

“Mm. But I thought we might want to…” Jack pauses, finding himself at a loss for words. He looks aimlessly around the room, and then lifts his chin and sets his shoulders as he looks Jesse straight in the eye. “Do you want to fuck?”

There’s a second of absolute stillness, and then a huge, luminous grin brightens Jesse’s entire face. “Like _fuck_ fuck?”

“—Ah. Yes. But that’s not something we have to—”

“Thought you were never gonna ask!” Jesse flings his legs over the side of the bed and springs to his feet, taking away both of their glasses. He leaves them on the table as he rummages through their shopping bags.

“ _You_ could have asked.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to hear how you’d say it.”

“Oh? And how did you think I would say it?”

“Well, not like that.” Jesse shines the full force of a grin back at him, holding up handfuls of supplies from the day’s shopping trip. “Hey, we got a lot of stuff now. Which of these should we use?”

“Ah - your condoms, my lube?”

Jesse approaches the bed, ceremoniously places the aforementioned condoms and lube onto the mattress, and then begins to strip. Jack brazenly watches, making no effort to be polite about his interest. He’d have been happy to lend a hand—to have this happen slowly, while they were in bed together—he’s not about to complain or interrupt. Jesse’s entirely unselfconscious about nudity. Keeping himself at least half covered during the entire storm-chasing season had been a demonstration of remarkable self-restraint and respect.

When he’s naked, Jesse climbs into bed. Jack beckons with a motion of his head.

In an instant Jesse is kissing him, lips slightly sticky. Jack rests a hand on Jesse’s hip and lets him glut himself as Jesse sits across his lap. Jesse slips a hand into his robe, petting over his chest and down his side. He’s lucky not to be ticklish. 

Jesse’s hand reaches his waist. “Can I?” he whispers, finger hooking on the cloth belt holding the robe shut.

Jack laughs softly against his mouth. “You think I’m wearing this because I want to keep it on?”

“I ain’t fool enough to think I know what goes on in that head of yours, Jack Morrison.” But Jesse’s grinning as he says it, and he leans back to untie the belt.

The robe parts down the center. It falls open from Jack’s body, and Jesse gives a groan like he’s seeing him for the first time. He’s not wearing anything under the robe, and he’s half hard. Jesse’s cock twitches, and he unashamedly pumps a hand over himself.

Jack finishes ridding himself of the robe, getting it down his shoulders and arms. It puddles around his hips, the lower half still trapped under his legs.

“Hey, uh.” Jesse bites at his own lip and then lets it roll out from between his teeth. “If we wanna do this, who’s, uh, catchin’?”

“Figured it’d be me.”

Jesse’s eyes grow round. “Really?”

“Mm.” Jack curls a hand loosely around himself and taps the ring a couple of times. “This, ah… Takes some getting used to.”

Jesse’s gaze rivets onto it. “Oh. _Oh_. That mean you usually…?”

Jack laughs. “Christ, no. But one less thing to worry about tonight, eh? And, dunno. Guess I’m in the mood.” He shrugs and smiles, trying to look casual, unconcerned. He’s thought about it the other way, if he’s being honest with himself. Pressing Jesse into bed, getting those thick legs wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t think Jesse would say _no_ if he asked. But that’s just the problem. Jesse agrees to everything. It’s hard not to let what he wants get in the way of what’s best for Jesse.

“That sounds—” Jesse gulps, “great. Real great.”

“You want me to get myself ready? I can do that.”

“Oh, no, no, no. No. Let me take care of that. You just relax.”

“Ah, my specialty.”

Jack sinks down onto his back, head propped on one of the pillows, knees bent, legs parted.

They haven’t done this. They’d made incredible time from Texas into New Mexico, covering the whole distance in a day’s drive. Sojourn, warned of their arrival, had insisted on hosting them for the night, and even after they’d moved into a hotel room for the rest of the stay, the process of wrapping up Jesse’s entire life had been so tiring and full of emotion that they’d fallen into bed each night with no intentions other than to sleep.

They’ve touched each other. Lain together in hazy half-awake states and used their hands. He’s felt Jesse come against him, already knows the patterns Jesse likes to use when he strokes another man. But this is new.

It’s not a big deal. He’s had his share of experiences. There’s no reason to be nervous about it.

Suddenly, though, he is conscious of his own vulnerability. It’s been a while now since he did this, and longer still since it was anything like this: naked, in a bed, with the lights on. He can see himself. Jesse can see him. The uneven tan, the body hair gone gray and coarser than it used to be. His whole body as faded and weathered as the Sacred Heart on his chest. Past his prime, if the scars on his face hadn’t already done enough to make him ugly.

But Jesse...

Jesse looks at him the way Jack’s seen him look at the horizon. Like he’s barely holding himself back. A hand rests delicately on the inside of Jack’s thigh.

“It’s all right,” Jack assures him. Jesse. Himself. “Go ahead.”

One finger is easy enough. Jesse is quite liberal with the lube. Jack relaxes into it, touching himself lazily as Jesse works up to giving him more. Gradually, it goes from feeling neutral to feeling good, and then really good. His legs and stomach start to give little involuntary twitches as Jesse preps him more confidently. Jesse watches him like a hawk, trying to get more out of him every time he reacts to a particular touch, a certain motion.

Jack gets more caught up in it than he meant to. He finds himself making noises, panting for it.

“Ah, Hell… Keep… there…”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

He rocks himself, body warm, cock starting to drip. He wants to just let it happen, on and on. But he opens his eyes—oh, he’d shut his eyes?—and reaches out to lay a hand on Jesse’s chest.

“I’m gonna… gonna roll over. Okay?”

Jesse nods distractedly.

“...That means you have to get your fingers out, Jesse,” he says, gently.

“Ah. Oh! Right.”

Jack carefully resettles himself onto his hands and knees. He spots the condoms in the process and hands one off to Jesse after fumbling with the packaging. Too late does it occur to him that he could have put it onto Jesse for him, but by that point he’s already repositioned himself again.

He feels the mattress dipping as Jesse moves around on his knees. One of his hands comes down, warm and gentle, on the small of Jack’s back.

“Ready?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

The first push shocks a low noise out of him. He drops his head limply, drawing deep breaths. Jesse goes slow, and he takes—what, three? four? inches before he’s bunched up handfuls of the bedcovers in his grip.

“Christ, you’re big,” he rasps.

Much, much faster than he’d pushed in, Jesse pulls out. The sound Jack makes is even less dignified than the first. His elbows almost buckle. He twists his head around, trying to look behind himself.

“Jess?”

“Can’t... can’t say things like that if you want me to finish my job.”

Embarrassed heat floods Jack’s face. “Oh, uh. Ah. Sorry. I…”

Then he realizes what’s actually happening. Jesse is squeezing himself, rocking slightly like people do when they’re in pain and trying not to make a sound. His face is scrunched.

“Did you almost come?” he asks, delightedly.

Jesse glares. “Just… you… shush… You shush.”

Jack doesn’t shush. He drops onto his elbows and buries his face in a hand, stifling his laughter very poorly indeed. Then he tips over onto his side and rolls over. Jesse’s face comes fully into view, flushed dark with mortification, lips pinched tight. His erection has lost a bit of its perkiness.

“C’mere,” Jack says, hooking his calf around Jesse’s leg. He pulls Jesse onto him, wraps his arms around him, kisses him. For a moment Jesse is tense and passive, but then he grows responsive to the kiss, a hand finding Jack’s face.

“Sorry for laughing,” Jack says. “Think I needed a good laugh, though. Nerves were getting to me. You ready to try again?”

Jesse’s expression turns anxious. “Was I hurtin’ you?”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt. It was just like… Trying to touch your toes after sitting all day, you know? Just need to warm up. You were good. You felt good.”

Jesse looks down between their bodies. Their hips are close together. “Think we’re about the same size,” he observes, as though it’s the first time he’s compared.

“Ha. Well, seeing it and feeling it are different things.” Jack massages the meat of Jesse’s shoulder under one hand and trails the other over his chest, brushing one of the barbells. “Come on, wanna try like this?”

He ought to get back on his hands and knees; it’d be the easiest position. But it’d felt… off. Seeing Jesse’s face seems more natural, somehow. He shifts his legs, offering himself.

Jesse swallows. But he’s quick to nod, and he lines up again. Jack’s more ready for it this time.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it…”

Jack breathes slowly through the push, stroking himself to keep relaxed. When it seems Jesse might pause, Jack shakes his head and squeezes him lightly with his legs, encouraging him to keep going.

At last their hips nestle together, and Jack sighs out contentedly.

“Shit… Okay.”

“You need a minute?”

“No, no… M’good. Did I mention you’re big?”

Jesse gives a soft laugh, but it seems to break the little bit of tension still lingering in his body. He rolls his hips.

The rolling motion turns into a thrust. He gets bolder, putting more of his weight behind each motion. Jack grunts under him, air getting pressed out of his body.

He expects Jesse to hit a point where he snaps. It’s what usually happens. He gets frantic eventually, like he expects that it might all be taken away from him if he doesn’t hurry, hurry, hurry.

But that’s not what happens. Jesse finds his stride and sticks to it, their bodies thumping steadily together. He cradles the back of Jack’s head in his palm and rests their foreheads together, wisps of his hair brushing the sides of Jack’s face. Jack looks up at him, and Jesse looks back at him, and Jack’s throat feels tight and achy around the tiny unbidden sounds that come out of him. It’s deliberate and tender and like nothing Jack has had since he was with the man he thought he’d have forever.

He knows the tells of when Jesse is going to come, and when eventually his breath turns ragged and he starts to chew the inside of his lip, Jack holds onto him with his legs against his sides and a hand gripping his shoulder and tells him that it’s okay, it’s okay, he can let go. And when he does Jack draws him down chest to chest and pets his broad back until Jesse’s whole body is softly relaxed, weight settled warmly against him. After some time he slips out.

He kisses Jesse with languid hunger as they sprawl on the bed while he brings himself off with his hand, sometimes nudging one of Jesse’s barbells to make him twitch and give quivering breaths. Their legs end up braided together in the aftermath, Jesse’s head on his shoulder, thumb tracing the outer contours of the Sacred Heart. They’re damp, and Jack has come on his stomach.

“Should do that again sometime,” he says.

“Uh-hm,” Jesse agrees, groggily.

“Maybe in the morning.”

Jesse snorts fondly and thumps the center of his chest. Jack smiles against the top of his head. He should move, make sure they get themselves washed up before they fall asleep right on top of all the bedcovers. But he doesn’t, and his eyes feel so heavy. They don’t even have to get an early start tomorrow. All they need to do is head toward home.

Then his eyes fly wide open, and he claps a hand to his forehead. “Ah. Shit.”

Jesse’s head pops up, instantly alert. “What? What?”

“I need to buy a bigger bed! _Shit_!”

Jesse boggles at him. Then his head falls back to Jack’s chest and his laughter shakes both of their bodies.

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from Elbow's "[Gentle Storm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n15Wu9h0ejk)."
> 
> I owe the minibar "plot" point entirely to [eastwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastwood).
> 
> You can find me on twitter at [strangefingers](https://twitter.com/strangefingers).


End file.
